


Whiskey Demons

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 04, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1-shot. Four months have passed since losing his brother and despite Ruby’s best intentions Sam is falling apart. A fight in a bar leaves him hurt and more than a little angry and confused when he gets a visit from someone he’s not expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Demons

“Have you lost your damn mind? What the hell were you thinking tonight?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Leave you alone? _Hel_ _-lo_! If I hadn’t gotten there when I did tonight that damn drunk with a bottle would’ve killed you!”

The petite raven haired young woman tossed her leather jacket onto the bed in the motel room in Pontiac, Illinois while glaring up at her much taller companion. “Well?”

“Maybe that’s what I was trying to do then?” keeping a hand pressed to the gash in his side, Sam Winchester was beyond tired and arguing with his would-be savior was not helping him at the moment. “I also don’t remember asking for your help, Ruby.”

“Oh, that’s real good, Sam. Get killed in a damn bar by a drunk with a broken longneck. That’s exactly what you need to do,” Ruby rolled her eyes while jerking out things from the medical kit that Sam had pulled from his duffel. “How’s getting yourself killed going to help defeat Lillith or get your brother back?” she challenged, missing his change in stance as she went on. “Do you really think that’s what he’d want? Do you think that’s what De…”

Whirling, he gave the demon’s newest vessel a not so light shove away from him while snatching the needle and thread out of her hands. “Don’t you _ever_ say his name!” he gritted, not drunk enough or in that much pain that he’d be able to hear his brother’s name come out of Ruby’s mouth. “Just…leave me alone.”

Blowing out a disgusted breath, she went to move the open bottle of Whiskey he’d pulled from his duffel aside only to have it yanked from her fingers and just for a moment she had to remind herself why she was doing this.

“Sam, I know you’re upset but this is going beyond grief now. You really could’ve been killed tonight and that won’t solve anything,” she tried to sound reasonable but was only ignored as the young hunter struggled to thread the needle that would hopefully slow the blood from the wound he’d gotten tonight. “Do you want me to…”

“No,” Sam refused flatly, not wanting Ruby to stitch him up. Sure, he admitted that he’d let her do a lot more recently but stitching a wound that normally would’ve been his older brother’s job just made him cringe at the thought of her doing it. “Do you know the date, Ruby?”

Blinking at the sudden off the wall question, she frowned a little then shrugged. “September 16,” she recited, not understanding Sam at times. “Why and why are we back in Illinois aside from the demons heading this way?”

“He’s been gone for four months. Dean’s been in Hell for four freakin’ months and I’m no closer to getting him out than I was the day he died,” Sam muttered, shivering between shock and the memories he still had of the night his older brother died. “So you know why I’m up here.”

Yeah, she did even if it bothered her to no end. “How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” she asked, resisting the urge to comment on the amount of whiskey he’d been consuming that night. “You go back to that place every month, Sam. It’s never going to change. It won’t change unless you…”

“I know it won’t change!” Sam yelled, blinking to clear his eyes as he threw a hard glare at her. “I know Dean’s still dead and in Hell because of me, Ruby!” he glanced down at the amulet he wore, Dean’s amulet, and felt the same gut wrenching loss that he had four months earlier. “I go back…because he’s there, or at least a part of him is and…I keep telling him that I’ll get him back soon. I go back because he’s my brother and I want…” turning to go slump on the floor after he missed the bed, he just sighed. “Just…leave me alone tonight. I just wanna be alone.”

Ruby knew that was a mistake. She’d seen Sam do some reckless things both before she joined back up with him and since, especially since she’d taught him a few tricks, so knowing how much he’d had to drink on top of how on edge he seemed leaving was not high on her list of things to do…until she saw the knife on top of his duffel begin to move.

“Fine, I’ll go out and grab some burgers and fries…and a lot of coffee for you,” she relented, slipping into her jacket while kneeling next to the young hunter turned demon killer to lay a hand on his cheek but felt him jerk a little. “I know you’re hurting, Sam and I wish I had a faster way to free…to get him back but I don’t. Just don’t give up hope and don’t slip with that needle.”

Sam waited until he heard the door close and was sure he was alone in the motel to let his head drop back to the mattress then let his hand fall from his side to reach for the whiskey that he hoped would not only dull his inner pain but also the throbbing pain in his side where a broken beer bottle slashed him.

“What I tell ya about drinking whiskey in this mood?”

“Not to do it cause I can’t handle it,” Sam mumbled back, not immediately reacting to the sudden voice then after a couple beats his eyes snapped open and his head jerked to the wingback chair sitting in the corner to see… “Dean.”

“Hey, Sammy,” an oh-so familiar smirk mad Sam’s heart ache more as he watched his older brother, the brother he’d buried in a field not to far from where he was gaze at him in that way only Dean could when measuring Sam up. “You’re bleeding by the way.”

“Duh,” Sam retorted, knowing he was drunk and in shock so this wasn’t real…it couldn’t be real. “I’m bleeding and you’re…dead.”

Dean nodded slightly in agreement then his eyes turned more serious as he seemed to take in the bleeding wound and how shaky Sam’s hand was. “Yeah, that’s true. Want to tell me what the hell you’re doing?”

“Bleeding,” Sam blinked at the curse tossed his way then hissed as the needle slipped through bloody fingers to nick an already sore area of his side. “Drinking and bleeding,” he lifted the nearly empty bottle of whiskey up as in a toast before going to drink only to find the bottle gone from his hand. “You can’t do that,” he shot back in the same tone he once used as an overly tired five year old. “Dean’s dead. You’re dead and I wanna die but…”

“Boy, you are in some mood tonight, Sammy,” Dean sighed like Sam remembered him doing so often then started at the light touch on his side as the figure of his brother moved from the chair to beside him as if to check the wound for himself. “I taught you better than to get a bottle in the side, Sam…though I also taught you better than to play with who you’re playing with too.”

That made Sam’s hazy thoughts refocus more on the image kneeling next to him even as he watched long fingers gently probe the gash as if looking for any shards of glass. “You…Dean…wouldn’t know ‘bout her,” he knew that…or thought he did. “Dean couldn’t know that’s Ruby cause…”

“Hey, College boy, you’re the one imaging this so I know what you know,” Dean smirked, lifting green eyes up from the bloody wound to turn serious once again as he met glassy hazel ones. “This is only an image from your sub-conscious so you’re missing me so much, you’re falling down the rabbit hole literally that your awesome big brother is what you need to see and hear right now…I’m also going to throw jabs at the mistakes you know you’re making,” he nudged Sam’s shaking hand. “You really think stitching this up yourself is smart?”

“You’re not here and I don’t want Ruby to do it so, no other choice,” Sam replied, feeling a warm hand touch his chest right over his heart much like his brother would do when needing him to stay still and in the here and now if Sam was slipping into shock. “Are you alright, Dean?” he asked suddenly as if this were real and not something his mind was making up.

Not answering right away, Dean took the time to consider the needle and thread, dumped some whiskey on it so it wouldn’t infect then put it in Sam’s hand but held on. “Yeah, Sammy, I’m good,” he finally replied but the hesitance wasn’t missed by either of them. “You’re not.”

“Umm, you’re dead, trapped in Hell because of me, I’m working with a demon and doing things I know you won’t like but I don’t know any other way to help you except to kill Lillith so how should I be, Dean?” Sam tossed back, feeling like throwing up but pushing it back as he fought to stitch his side up and ignore the very real image that was now sitting next to him. “So, you’re just an image in my mind? Now I’m crazy?”

“You’re drunk, hurt, and grieving, little brother. You’re the bright one, figure out what I am,” Dean returned, rolling his eyes before grabbing the needle for himself. “Watch then when you’re sober you can probably do it yourself.”

Biting his lower lip as his side wanted to explode in pain when he actually felt that needle pierce his skin, Sam decided to focus on the image for a moment. “So I’m not crazy, just drunk and hallucinating wildly. Wonderful, my old Psyche professor would have a field day with me,” he decided, smiling thinly at the laugh that comment brought from beside him. “I miss you, Dean.”

Since this was just a dream or a wild hallucination brought on by the shock and booze, Sam figured he’d ride it out and maybe get a few things off his chest without his overly anti-chick-flick moment brother making flip comments or snide remarks.

“I know…I wasn’t always the greatest brother, especially since we started hunting again but…it’s like they say, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I didn’t realize how much you gave up for me, did in our lives, until you weren’t there anymore…until the first night I woke up and I was alone in a motel with two double beds. It was like I was three years old again and I woke up at Pastor Jim’s and couldn’t find you. Only this time you didn’t come in to stop the bad dreams, you weren’t there to tell me it was alright. You weren’t here, Dean and I miss you so damn much, man,” Sam started to reach up to slash at the tears he felt on his face then just said the hell with it and let them fall. “I. Miss. You.”

“Yeah, I know you do, Sammy,” Dean murmured, concentrating at the wound when he cleared his throat as if trying to break what was headed for a very chick flick moment. “I mean, what’s not to miss and…”

Shaking his head, Sam let his eyes close just to rest them as if feeling safe for the first time since the night Dean’s deal had come due and those hellhounds ripped both his brother and his world apart. “Uh-huh, you’re my image, in my head due to my grief, shock, and whiskey befuddled head so while you may sound like my brother, you may have his mannerisms and attitude down pat, you don’t get to call on Dean’s ‘no chick flick’ rule to stop this cause for once I get to say what I want without any snide comments, smart remarks, or do-overs called. ‘kay?”

Tongue stuck in his cheek, this image of Dean seemed more than amused but gave a shrug before going back to work on his stitch job. “Let ‘er rip then, Sammy.”

“Ever since I was old enough to remember, I followed you around. I wanted to be just like my big brother because Dean was everything to me and I idolized you…him,” Sam seemed to frown as he struggled to remember this wasn’t really his brother but relaxed slowly at the touch of fingers squeezing his wrist in reassurance.

“Yeah, I know I’ve given you plenty of reasons to think I didn’t but I never stopped looking up to you. I mean, you gave me the courage to walk away and go to school,” he opened his eyes to slits as if just to check that he wasn’t alone and looked down to see the blood was slowing with every stitch. “I’m bleeding out in real time, right? I mean, you said this wasn’t real so those stitches aren’t real and…”

“Sam, for once stop over thinking and just say what you want,” Dean snorted, shaking his head as the last stitch went in and he waited to see if the wound would stay closed or rip open again. “You went to college because you earned it. You had the guts to do what I never could. I had nothing to do with that.”

Groaning as something burned as it was doused over the wound and the mere smell of the whiskey made his already rolling stomach want to tilt more but he managed to grab for the retreating hand before either it or the image of his older brother could vanish.

“No…you taught me to go for what I wanted, not to back down and even as scared as I was the night I walked out on Dad…on you, I knew if I didn’t go that I’d be letting us both down but…I never meant to leave you, De’n,” Sam was feeling more tired and he wanted to sleep but didn’t want to lose this image, he needed to hear his brother’s voice for as long as possible. “I wanted you to come with me, to get out but…I knew you’d never leave Dad or hunting so I didn’t ask.”

“Normal was your life, Sammy. I gave up what I did so you could have normal because I hoped so long as I stayed that maybe Dad would ease offa you enough that you could go somewhere with that huge brain and you did,” considering for a moment, Dean sat on the floor again beside Sam and after a couple seconds slipped an arm around the weary young man and eased him against his shoulder much like they’d do when Sam was small or after Jessica or Madison had died. “You made me proud, Sammy. Hell, I’ve always been proud of you and I always will be…even if I don’t always like the choices you make. I mean, Ruby? C’mon, Sammy, didn’t I teach you anything about women?”

A small laugh turned into a sob as Sam heard so many tones that he’d never hear again that when this image made a comment only his brother could’ve thought of he nearly broke down when he felt  fingers card through his hair in the same soothing motion Dean used years earlier. “I think you skipped that lesson…for a date with a senior when you were a freshman.”

“Oh…yeah, I remember her,” Dean sounded wistful then tightened his arm when Sam shifted to grip his shirt. “Sammy, I know this is bad but I need you to listen to me one more time before you fall to sleep,” he waited until he heard a soft reply then sighed. “You’ll be fine and I will be back. You did not fail me. You could never fail me, little brother. Just hold on to that little bit of hope that you still have and I will be back. We will be together and…Sam…if you so much as scratched my baby I will so end you, little brother.”

That did it. Any emotional control Sam still had left the moment his brother’s voice offered that warning and the dam broke and for Sam, who accepted he was by this point in a world of hurt, it was made nearly as bad when he felt the strong arms offering him that hug only his brother could when he knew Sam really needed the support.

“You’re going to be fine, Sam. I swear,” Dean murmured, voice gruff as if trying to bury emotions he didn’t want to come out right then as he sat and held the younger Winchester until Sam’s body started going limp and into sleep. “Promise, Sammy. Soon, it’ll be all good again.”

Nodding, Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly and he seemed to feel himself being eased up and onto the bed and as he felt the warmth of the blanket covering him he made one last grab for the retreating hand to look up through sleepy eyes at the slowly thinning image. “I…I love you, Dean,” he whispered, adding in an almost mumble. “Don’ hate me when you come back.”

“You’re my little brother, Sam. I’ll never hate you,” Dean’s voice seemed to fade with this promise and soon there was no more sounds in the motel except for the noises outside and a faraway sound like an explosion through a deadly nether realm but those went unheard to sleeping, grief stricken boy in the motel.

 

** Later that next day, September 17, 2008: **

“Hey, you waking up or should I be concerned you gave yourself infection from that gash in your side?”

Groaning as Ruby’s softer than normal voice still seemed to blast through his pounding head, Sam groaned and went to flip onto his stomach but shot straight up as pain seared his side and his blurry mind seemed to recall the cut.

“How’d it…” he looked down at the neatly stitched wound and something seemed to tingle in the back of his mind but he shot Ruby his best bitch face anyway. “I thought I said not to stitch it.”

Staring at Sam like he’d lost his mind, the demon woman held her hands up in mock defense. “No way,” she argued, nodding to the wound. “When I got back, you were sound asleep on the bed, under the covers and that was stitched. I didn’t touch you. How’d you get it so good with your opposite hand?” she watched Sam’s face and read his confusion as he laid back down to let his hand close over Dean’s amulet like he did when thinking of his brother.

“Huh, I don’t know,” he murmured, recalling his dream. He recalled seeing and hearing Dean. “I saw Dean and in my mind, he stitched it up.”

“You saw…okay, now that I know you definitely can’t have hard liquor…maybe we need to have you checked for a concussion?” Ruby wasn’t sure what to make of this since she knew better than anyone how hard it was to get out of Hell, especially if they wanted you there for a reason. “Sam, your brother’s…I mean…it wasn’t real so how…?”

“Don’t know, but I saw him, I heard him and the last thing he said to me was that he’d be back and soon. To not give up hope on that and I’m not going to, Ruby,” Sam’s eyes lit with a brightness she hadn’t seen since Dean’s death.

He really believed his image had been real and she saw no reason to change his mind if it made him happy… plus she couldn’t explain how his wound had been stitched if neither of them had done it. “What else this image say?” she asked curiously, wondering what the hell else might be going on.

Sam had slowly pushed himself up off the bed to reach for a shirt when he could have sworn he smelled familiar aftershave and he smiled shakily. “That if I scratched his car he’d end me.”

“Huh, well then you better get that I-Pod jack outta it then before he does come back cause I can promise, he will kill you for that,” Ruby put in, leaning up to kiss him like she’d done plenty of times but didn’t miss his hesitance. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just think I want to sleep,” Sam wanted to sleep, he needed to focus on that dream or whatever it had been because right now it was all he had to make him hold on. “We’re staying here a couple more days,” he told her, feeling in his heart that he needed to be here even though he wasn’t sure for what.

Surprised by this, Ruby considered arguing then just as quickly shrugged. “Whatever you want, Sam,” she agreed while wishing she knew what had caused the big uproar in the demon community and why any of her contacts were now cowering under the rocks. “You think he’ll come back or was it just a dream brought on by the shock and whiskey?”

“Oh, I know he wasn’t real, Ruby,” Sam sighed, closing his eyes and tightening his hand around the amulet but still feeling the strong grip that had offered support just like Dean always had. “But I also know…Dean’s coming back…cause he promised me he would.”

Later that night, Sam carefully shifted on the bed so he didn’t wake Ruby and his gaze landed on the bottle of whiskey on the dresser and the stitches in his side. He didn’t know what had happened but he knew he felt better and he’d hold onto that for as long as he needed to…or until he big brother walked back in the door.

“I miss you, Dean,” he whispered, falling back to sleep peacefully for the first time in four months.

 

** The End **


End file.
